


Destruction

by LadyIrina



Series: Corruption and Redemption [3]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Ben is not, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Heavy Angst, M/M, Military Background, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Theseus Scamander is a good guy, World War I, he's really not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-13 23:20:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10524042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/pseuds/LadyIrina
Summary: Percival Graves survived a huge loss, suffered through betrayal and the big war, becoming one of the most powerful wizards in America, but not without a cost.His name was Ben.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The infamous Ben, at last! This is a lot darker than the previous ones, can't stress that enough, so if you don't want to deal with very dark subjects like non-con and the after-effects of that, stay tuned for fourth and final part of the Percy&Credence story! :D  
> If you are ready for a trip down the very dark memory lane, buckle up and let me know what you think!

  
[](https://ibb.co/kkT6dv)  
  
_  
_

Prologue:

_Percival Graves had never seen his parents more proud than when he graduated, dubbed a prodigy, with top grades and honors from Ilvermorney. Still, they were almost as proud when he turned 19 years old and joined the army!_  
 _His mother and little Georgiana were both fighting back tears the day he left, while his father had slapped his back and told him to make him proud with a faint quiver in his voice. That was the last time he saw them alive._

_He received letters from them during those first months and while it made him a little homesick; Percival found that he really did like the army life. He loved the physical work and the routines and had more than a little ambition to reach the higher ranks as well. His family had a long history of doing well in most professions that came with authority. (He still had to live up to his family being among the original Aurors.)  
Graves had always made friends easily and the army was no different for him. Yet Benjamin Roberts was special. _

_They met on the very first day Percival arrived at the camp, Ben had arrived the day before, and the two connected from that moment._

_Ben came from a poor wizarding family. He was dark haired, blue eyed and had a smile that made women swoon. It was amazing for Graves to meet someone who had the same interests, had the same sharp sense of humor and with a fierce sense of loyalty. Percival didn’t even have to speak his mind sometimes, because Ben would already know. Graves had many friends, but Ben was his closest friend. It was hard to explain, but it felt like they had been friends forever!_

_The only time they almost bickered was over a girl, but Ben eventually backed off and they never had that problem again. (Mostly because they were busy being yelled at by superior officers and evenings spent together were often more fun than all the work to get a date took.)_

_For three months, things were good and then everything changed._

-

1.

Guard-duty was boring and cold, as usual.  
They were in the middle of the forest and it was just a stupid training exercise; why did they insist on these stupid guard stations? And no fires, magic or regular ones!

Percival glanced over at the sound of footsteps and smiled at the sight of Ben. “You’re late.”

“The sergeant couldn’t make up his mind whether he wanted to send me out here to freeze my ass off or yell at me some more,” Ben replied, having being caught once more smuggling food into the camp.

“I’m grateful he decided that I don’t have to freeze to death alone,” Percival declared, stomping his feet a little on the frozen ground to try to stay warm. “This is just ridiculous!”

Ben glanced over, seeing him wrapped up in extra coats and two scarves and he laughed a little at the sight. “You look like a pile of rags, buddy!”

Huffing, Graves merely kept stomping his feet. “I don’t care how I look. I care about not losing limbs to frost-bite.”

He was about to continue his complaining when he noticed that Ben had stepped closer, almost too close, and was watching him with a fond look. “What?”

“You’re the only one I know who could make a pile of rags look good,” Ben said, still with that look, and he reached out to correct Percival’s hair trying to make a break for it from under his hat with a light touch.  
For some reason, Graves found himself lost for words. He even forgot to stomp to keep warm. He merely stared at Ben, wondering what had come over him and why there suddenly was tension between them.  
Ben smiled a little and let his hand slide down to cup the side of Percival’s face.

Time slowed down, neither of them moved and Percival only blinked confused when Ben finally leaned a little closer. That was when Graves actually realized what was about to happen. 

He was shocked to feel the first brush of Ben’s lips against his, but he couldn’t make himself do anything about it at first.  
It was just too surreal. Was it really happening? 

Ben pulled back a little before leaning in again and this time there was a longer, firmer kiss and Percival STILL didn’t really do anything. He remained wide-eyed and frozen.

Ben was kissing him. Ben! Kissing him! Yet, as the shock was slowly abating (leaving nothing but confusion to take its place), he also became aware of how it wasn’t unpleasant. Unfamiliar, yes, different from a girl, yes, but it was not unpleasant.

When Ben eased off for the second time, it seemed like he was giving Graves a chance to put a stop to it and Percival… didn’t. He was torn, but this was Ben and there had always been something about him that made Percival re-evaluate things; like the subject of kissing one’s very male friend apparently.

It was around the fourth or fifth kiss that Percival felt himself starting to kiss back. Tentatively. Curiously…

Ben made an approving sound and shifted even closer; only the many layers of clothes separating them now. That kind of proximity along with the lingering, if careful, kisses, it made Percival feel a tiny, tingling spark of interest in his blood.

Overwhelmed and flustered, Graves leaned away and Ben took a step back in response. Following that, the two shared a long, silent moment, looking at each other with nothing but the white puffs of their breaths in the air. Then Ben’s lips stretched into a smile and Percival found himself slowly returning it with one of his own. Their secret.

Nothing more happened that night, or the next couple of days, other than the occasional smile they’d share and Graves had some very confusing dreams, but then Percival got called to the officer tent.

-

There had been a fire. An accident. No one to blame.

Percival heard the words, but he felt completely numb. His parents, his sister, they were gone.  
The officer kept talking, telling him he understood that he needed to go home and sort out the family affairs and that he was granted leave. He said a lot of other stuff too, but Percival only reacted to the final question; was there anyone he wanted to come with him?  
He didn’t have to think about it, merely asked if Benjamin Roberts could be allowed to go with him.

Hours later, they were sitting on the train heading for what had been his home. Graves still felt numb. He couldn’t cry or process the news before he’d seen the ruins for himself and that way know it was real. But how could it be real? His entire family, gone. Just like that. 

Ben didn’t say much on the journey. As always, he could sense when to be quiet, yet his presence was soothing nonetheless. It meant Percival wasn’t completely alone in this world.  
From the train, to the town, to the Graves’ property, it was like he was walking in a daze. He could barely remember it. Later, he wished he could forget the smell of burned woodwork and the destruction which had replaced his childhood home.

He stood in front of the ruins and silent tears ran down his face. Ben placed a hand on his shoulder.  
Percival would probably have stood there for hours if not for Ben eventually guiding him away.

“We need to find a place to stay while you sort things out, buddy,” his friend stated quietly.

Graves nodded, wiping tears away only to have them instantly replaced with new ones.

It turned out that the family lawyer had already reserved a room for them at the town inn. It was a small, but cozy house and Graves felt a little comfort in the familiar surroundings of the town. Everywhere he looked, he could remember seeing his family there.  
Their room was surprisingly nice and had two spacious beds which they soon took advantage of. Graves was completely exhausted, but even full night’s sleep did little to remove that feeling. He was still walking around in a daze and Ben had to more or less guide him to the lawyer’s office the next day.

The lawyer began with his words of sympathy and whatnot before he continued on to what Percival had inherited. It came as no surprise to Graves, but he saw the shock on Ben’s face when he heard about the fortune and the estates. But money couldn’t bring his family back…

The meeting took hours, followed by friends of the family who all wanted a word with Graves outside the office.

“At least you won’t be ending up in no workhouse or begging on street corners,” Ben pointed out as they headed back to the inn that evening.

The lawyer had asked them to come back the next day as well to sign some papers.

“Yeah,” Graves said absently, “I guess so…”  
-

At the inn, Ben persuaded him to join him for one drink in the bar.  
“To the memory of your family,” he stated, and raised his whiskey glass.

Graves raised his own whiskey glass before he forced down the burning liquid.

When asked if he wanted a second glass, he shook his head. “I just want to go to bed, Ben.”

Nodding, Ben got up as well. “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

Percival headed up the stairs, noting his friend’s footsteps behind him, and entered their room with the echo of the lawyer’s voice in his head; telling him they had only found parts of his sister to bury.

“Hey,” Ben called out to him, softly, once the door had closed behind them.

Graves turned to face him and was unprepared for when the other man reached out and took his face between his hands. He reacted too slow to stop the first kiss Ben placed on his lips, but he leaned away before the second could take place.  
“Don’t,” Percival said, almost apologetically. “I can’t…” Not now, not when he had to bury his entire family and felt like he had an empty space inside him where his heart used to be.

“Sure you can,” Ben insisted, leaning in again. His lips managed to brush Graves’ before he was pushed away.

“Knock it off,” Percival snapped annoyed. 

Ben was looking at him and something changed in his eyes; there was suddenly a hardness there that Graves had never seen before.

“Expellimarus!” Ben called out with a wave of his wand and Graves was startled to feel his own wand shoot out of his pocket and into Ben’s free hand.

“What…?” Percival glanced from his wand to Ben. “This isn’t funny, Ben.”

“You’re the one who wanted to go to bed,” Ben countered for some absurd reason and just as Graves was about to ask him what the hell he meant by that, he shot off two quick spells.  
Percival felt himself crash to his knees before he was struck by a paralyzing spell.

By now, Graves was getting angrier by the second. What the hell did he think he was doing? The fact that he couldn’t speak made him even more furious.

Ben slipped Graves’ wand into his own shirt pocket and looked down at him with a slight smile. “I have to tell you; I have been really looking forward to this.” He stepped forward and placed the tip of his wand under Percival’s chin to lift his face slightly, making him look up at him. “And in case you still want to play hard to get, I should warn you that I do know spells that will hurt you. Hurt a lot.”

At first the warning made no sense, none of this made sense, but then Ben’s right hand went to his pants and Graves realized what was about to happen. Fury was replaced with ice cold dread.

-

“I bet that mouth of yours is as sweet as your face,” Ben murmured, sliding the fingers on his left hand through Graves’ hair to take a tight hold of it by his neck to hold him still.

Only managing sharp, short puffs of breath, Percival struggled with all his might to break the spell, but it was impossible. It felt like his heart was going to pound its way out of his chest. Why was Ben doing this? Sure, Percival had said he wanted to go to bed, but that didn’t mean he meant this!  
Horrifying enough, it seemed by the hardness straining against Ben’s pants that the situation really appealed to the man. This was a nightmare, had to be! Either that or the loss of his family had driven him insane and he was hallucinating!

Graves wanted to close his eyes, shut out the sight of what was happening at least, but the spell wouldn’t let him. Graves had to watch as Ben pulled out his cock, how his hand moved to clutch Graves’ jaw and forced his mouth open before pushing himself inside.

Gagging and coughing, Percival felt Ben’s fingers tighten in his hair so hard it felt like he was going to pull it out by the roots. He thought it couldn’t get any worse when Ben used the grip on his hair to move his head to his liking.

Amidst the fear, the humiliation, the ever present confusion and Ben’s groans of approval, Percival’s mind decided to do what his body could not; it shut down. It all became a distant blur of pain and discomfort.  
He wasn’t even aware of it being over until a gentle, warm touch to his chin made him blink and his eyes focused to find Ben crouching in front of him and appeared to be washing his face with a wash cloth.

“There we go,” Ben said cheerfully, giving a final wipe. “Better?”

Graves simply stared at him with a blank look, refusing to process what had just happened.

“Come on,” Ben pulled at his arm, making him stand up and had obviously lifted the spell while Graves was out of it. He guided him over to sit on the bed and handed him a glass of water. Percival accepted it with a numb hand, but he didn’t drink before Ben guided him to. His throat hurt.

“I don’t know about you, buddy,” Ben said, stretching, “but I could really use some sleep right about now! It’s been a long day!”

He took the glass away from Graves’ hand, placed it on the nightstand and pushed him down to lie on the bed. Percival instinctively curled up on his side, his back towards the other bed, and his heart jumped when he felt Ben crawl up behind him, placing one arm around his waist and humming satisfied against his shoulder. Percival kept very, very still for the rest of the night.

His entire body was strung tight with tension and fear, but his mind was still completely blank.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A deal with the devil, yet things still get worse...

When morning came, Graves woke up feeling exhausted and unsettled. His throat was sore and his entire body ached from the constant tension and for a moment he couldn’t remember why. His blissful ignorance lasted only for a couple of seconds. 

His family was gone, burned to death, and the one he had considered his friend had bound him with magic and...

That was the moment when Ben woke up too. Percival felt a sickening knot in his stomach when the other man stretched lazily against him, still holding a possessive arm around him. He pushed closer and mumbled a drowsy; “Morning.” against Graves’ neck. His arm squeezed him gently. 

Percival didn’t reply, didn’t move, he barely breathed. What was he supposed to do now?

Ben’s hand slid down to rest on Graves’ hip and he took a hold to pull him backwards while he rolled his hips; letting him feel the half-hard cock against his ass. “Want to make it a good morning?”

The implication made raw fear claw at Percival and he was physically unable to prevent himself from trembling. “Ben…” His voice was hoarse and weak, Graves barely recognized it, but he didn’t recognize Ben anymore either. “Don’t…”

“What was that?” Ben did it again. “You don’t want me to fuck you?”

Struck with a bizarre need to crawl out of his own skin to escape, Graves had to force himself not to flinch away from the contact as he feared it would only provoke the other man. “Don’t, Ben.” He struggled to find a way to avoid more horror. He had to choke out the word; “Please.”

Ben didn’t move for a second and then he made a thoughtful sound. “If we don’t, will you behave? No sulking, no drama, or any other bullshit like that?”

Percival nodded, desperate under the unspoken threat. 

“Promise me,” Ben teased, placing a biting kiss to Graves’ neck. His fingers were still digging into Percival’s hip.

“I promise,” he whispered, feeling like he’d just done a deal with the devil, but when Ben rolled away it also felt like it was worth it.  
He waited and didn’t move while Ben did his morning wash, giving only a little nod when the man declared he would head downstairs for breakfast and wait for him there. Once the door closed and he was alone in the room, Percival slowly sat up on the bed.

His fingers were digging into the mattress and he struggled to breathe. He sat like that for a good minute, until he forced himself up on his feet. Percival went through his own morning routine like he was sleep-walking, hoping he’d feel more like himself if he just got cleaned up, but for some reason the water didn’t help. It was like he could still feel everything on him…

Giving up on getting clean, Graves got dressed, layer upon layer even if the weather seemed warmer that day, and reminded himself that he still had a duty to his family. He had to meet the lawyer again and make arrangements for their final resting place.  
He wasn’t surprised to discover that Ben had taken Graves’ wand with him.

-

Stepping out of the room, Percival froze as he saw Ben leaning against the wall out in the hall, arms crossed and a smile on his handsome face.  
“You were taking so long, buddy, I was getting worried!”

Graves stared at him for several seconds until he realized his fingers were hurting from the frantic grip on the doorknob and he forced himself to let go. “I, uh, had to fix a button… on my shirt…”

Ben rolled his eyes with an amiable smile. “Percival Graves, ever the snob!” He nodded for him to follow him downstairs. “I’m starving. Let’s go!”

Percival nodded and followed. He didn’t have much of an appetite, merely gnawed on a piece of bread until Ben had finished his breakfast and asked if they should head over to the lawyer.  
Ben was walking along and chatting like nothing had happened and if not for his sore throat and the constant tension in his body; Graves would have been tempted to believe it had all been a bad dream. He was still struggling to understand why it had happened…

Ben had always been a good guy. Did that mean Graves was at fault, somehow? Partially, at least?

The meeting with the lawyer was without any big surprises. Percival signed a lot of papers, answered some questions in a monotone voice and pretty soon they were wrapping things up. There were still some things to be sorted out with the arrangements for his family, but the lawyer promised he’d take of it.  
He was also handed a rather large sum of money to live off until the properties and businesses were transferred to him and would start bringing him money. That seemed to catch Ben’s interest, at least.

They had barely left the lawyer’s office and stepped outside when an old friend of Graves’ father called David Fountaine came upon them and insisted they’d join him and his family for dinner. Ben accepted before Percival could decline and he felt a stab of distress at the thought of not only pretending things were normal in front of Ben, but also in front of people who’d known him and his family for years.

Minutes seemed like hours and hours like days, but with Ben explaining Percival’s silence coming from the horrible loss of his family and him being his usual charming self; no one seemed to notice anything was wrong. The daughter of the family even went as far as shamelessly flirting with Ben at the dinner table.  
Graves just wanted to leave. He just wanted to be alone.

When the meal and the day came to an end, Percival knew his wish would not be granted. Ben was right there by his side when they left the mansion.

The prospect of being alone with Ben again suddenly seemed even worse than pretending everything was okay amidst a crowd of people. By the time they reached the inn, Percival felt nauseous.

-

Stepping into the room and hearing Ben close the door behind them was like hearing a prison door slam shut, but Graves forced himself to calmly remove his jacket like he wasn’t tense enough to explode.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had that fancy food before,” Ben said, shedding his own jacket. He’d helped himself to a fair amount of wine too so his words were a little softened by the alcohol. “You got nice friends, buddy.”

Percival nodded, more focused on listening to where Ben’s presence was in the room than keeping a conversation. He fidgeted with his shirt sleeves when he became aware of the looming silence behind him. Instantly his heart began to race and tension coiled even tighter in his stomach.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Ben said, closer than before.

Graves turned to face him, discovering that Ben had indeed come closer. A lot closer. He backed up a step from the encroaching man. “I just… I’m not feeling well…"  


Ben nodded, his face the perfect picture of compassion and understanding. “I get that, buddy. It’s rough.” He reached out, pretending not to see Graves freezing up, and touched the side of his face. “Just remember that you’re not alone in this, yeah? I’m here for you.”

Percival managed a faint nod. It took everything he had to not shy away from the touch.

“Good,” Ben murmured, letting his hand slide forward to take a gentle hold of Graves’ chin. “So show me how grateful you are.” His thumb moved up to Graves’ mouth, pushing down his lower lip a little to open it.  
Graves instantly jerked his head away and stumbled backwards. 

Ben’s eyes narrowed and suddenly he had his wand in his hand. “I thought you promised to behave?”

“I did behave!” Percival violently hated, with every fiber of his being, how pathetic his voice sounded. 

“You call sulking, barely speaking to me, being rude to our dinner hosts, behaving?” Ben’s grip on the wand tightened. “Talking back and being ungrateful to me, is that behaving?”

Graves fought against the rising panic. “Ben, don’t do this…” He kept a wary eye on the wand. 

“Don’t do what?” Ben asked, still with that harsh look in his eyes that made Percival’s skin crawl. “I’m only giving you a choice, buddy. Is that so horrible? We both know what’s going to happen here, but you get to choose how.”

Torn between fight and flight, Graves quickly realized that he’d lose either way. He would not be able to defeat Ben, not without a wand, but he wouldn’t be able to flee without a wand either…  
Basically he had the choice between humiliating himself or be forced through it. Ben was right about one thing; this would happen. He could tell from the harsh look in Ben’s eyes. Wouldn’t it be smarter to have at least a semblance of control?

-

“Ben…” Percival appealed to him one last time, trying to see if he could reach the one he’d considered his friend, but all he got in return was a cold smile. Graves felt something die inside him and he gave a defeated nod.

“Excellent, buddy,” Ben said, his smile widening. “How about you getting down on your knees?”

Despite having made his decision, Graves hesitated. The very idea of going down on his knees in front of this man made his stomach turn. He drew a breath, held it for a moment and slowly exhaled as he went down on one knee, then the other.  
He stared firmly at the floor, but suddenly Ben’s hand took a painful grip on his hair and tugged harshly at it to make him look up. The burning pain in his scalp was an almost welcome distraction from the thought of what was to follow.  
Ben’s free hand went to his pants and Percival realized with another nauseas turn to his stomach that Ben was excited to the point of being fully hard already. 

He tried, he really did, but when Ben aimed to push himself into his mouth, Graves automatically jerked his face away; ignoring the pain from the grip on his hair and clenched his teeth together hard. He began a fierce scramble to free himself from the hand in his hair and get up on his feet, but it only lasted a few seconds before the paralyzing spell hit him.

Percival wanted to scream, driven by a primal need to flee from danger, but Ben didn’t hesitate as he forced his mouth open and silenced any sound he could make by showing his cock into it.

This time Graves found himself unable to shut down and was forced to suffer through it all; the choking, the yanking on his hair and the pain in his jaw as well as his throat. The humiliation was complete when his mouth was flooded and he choked again.

Panting, Ben pulled himself free and fixed his pants before he went to get a wash cloth and repeat what he’d done the last time. “There, there,” he soothed, kneeling in front of him and sliding the cloth under his chin. He placed his free hand on Graves’ shoulder to calm the helpless tremors raging through him. “You’re okay, buddy. I got you.”

Graves was horrified to feel tears welling up in his eyes. He still didn’t know why this was happening to him, but now he knew it wouldn’t stop. It would probably only get worse. He had to make it stop, somehow. He had to get away…

“None of that,” Ben kept talking in that soothing voice, drawing the wash cloth down the front of Graves’ throat to clean up the remaining mess. “Here. I’ll make you feel better.” He dropped the cloth and reached down to undo Percival’s pants.

Despair had to give way for a new wave of panic that flushed through him, but Percival still couldn’t move or do anything to stop the man from reaching inside and taking a hold of him.  
The sense of violation made a sound escape from his sore throat, but Ben merely hushed him softly and began stroking him. “Yeah, I know. I got you, buddy. I got you.”

He was helpless to stop his own body from responding to the touch.

-

“There you go,” Ben praised, leaning forward to rest his head on Graves’ shoulder while he kept stroking him into full hardness. 

It was a horrible mix of disgust and the sweet curl of arousal in the pit of his stomach, but shame overrode it all. The need to push Ben away, to get away from there, was killing him. And still his body responded to the touch.

“See?” Ben said, sliding his thumb over the head of Percival’s cock and smearing the liquid there. “If you didn’t want this, why are you hard? Hmm?”

That really messed with Graves’ head. There was no doubt to him that he did not want this, never had. The reluctance and disgust made that pretty clear to him, but how could he deny the evidence in Ben’s hand? Surely if he was opposed to this as he thought he was; he wouldn’t get hard, right?

Had Ben been right all along? Then why was everything inside Percival screaming; NO? Why did the occasional twitch of pleasure make his soul curl up in shame?

“That’s it,” Ben grinned at the small twitch in Graves’ hips and kept stroking him until he came over his hand. 

Percival felt the bittersweet pleasure of his release, but strangely enough it made him feel even worse.

Ben didn’t pull his hand away before he was certain he had lured out everything Graves could give and only then did he pick up the wash cloth again and wiped himself clean. “There. Better now?” He wiped Graves clean too and made him decent again before getting up. “Time for bed, yeah?”

The spell was lifted, but all Graves did was shift position so he could pull his knees up to his chest and wrap his arms around them. He stared emptily ahead and refused himself to cry, absently noting Ben getting undressed and ready for a good night’s sleep.

The man was actually surprised when he found Percival in that position when he turned his focus back to him. “What are you doing? Get off the floor.” Ben took a hold of Graves’ arm and pulled him up. “You can’t go to bed with all those clothes on.”

Now, that made Percival start to life and he jerked away. He quickly reached up and started unbuttoning his shirt so Ben would have no excuse to _help_ him. “I got it.” His throat was even sorer now, making his voice gravelly and weak. In addition, his head was hurting from the hair-pulling, he still had the taste of Ben in his mouth and the sensation of his hand on his cock, and he just couldn’t handle any more.

Ben watched him for a little while, his eyes scanning and calculating, but eventually he gave a little nod. “Al right then, buddy.” 

Graves felt a sickening sense of relief when he backed off. He continued undressing, but left on as much as he could get away with, and reluctantly got on the bed. He closed his eyes when Ben climbed in behind him and wrapped his arm around his waist.

Once he heard a quiet snore from the other man, only then did Percival allow himself to despair. He wondered how much it hurt to die in a fire…


	3. Chapter 3

When morning came, Percival thought his skull would explode; it was hurting so bad. 

He didn’t move for the longest time, his body felt heavy and not his own, but finally a spark emerged inside him and he wondered if he could slide out of bed without waking the man sleeping behind him. Ben’s arm was still slung over his waist, but Percival still decided to chance it.

He squirmed a little, tested the water, got no reaction, and then he started inching towards the edge of the bed.

Graves got one foot on the floor when the arm tightened its grip and pulled him back. Ben made a sleepy sound and squeezed him tight. “Morning, buddy. Feeling better today?”

Percival didn’t reply. He could feel every muscle in his body grow tense.

“What happened with your family was horrible,” Ben mumbled, leaning forward to place a kiss on Graves’ neck, “but you got to live on, you know? That’s what they’d want.”

“Don’t talk about my family,” Graves grit out between clenched teeth. That was just unbearable. Ben did NOT get to taint their memory by talking about them! At all!

Sighing, Ben almost sounded remorseful. “Still upset, huh? I don’t blame you, buddy. I get it. I really do.” He ran a gentle hand over Percival’s hair. “It’s going to be okay. I got you, remember?”

Oh, he remembered only too well. And he couldn’t stand the fact that those hands were still on him!  
Graves swallowed hard. “I need to get up. Today is the final arrangements.” 

Another breakfast without appetite followed and Percival was constantly torn between the never-ending grief over his family and the unnerving presence of Ben. Wherever they went, Ben was by his side, close, almost too close, constantly touching and whispering in his ear.

Despite the fact that they were leaving the very next day and that Percival had done what he could for his family, giving them a final resting place worthy of them, he felt on the verge of snapping when they returned to the inn for the final time. He could barely breathe. He even briefly considered telling someone, surely there was someone who could stand between him and Ben, right? But the idea of admitting what had happened to him... What he had allowed to happen again... Graves couldn't do it. That was one humiliation too many...  
Just this one last night, Percival told himself. Tomorrow you’ll be heading back to camp and he can’t continue this there. You’ll be free of him. Right? Just one more night…

In the privacy of their room, Ben took a hold and gave Graves’ shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “How are you doing, buddy? Still hanging in there? It was a tough day, huh?”

He acted before he knew what he’d done, but Graves’ own hand flew up as he spun around to face him and slapped Ben’s grip away. “Don’t touch me.”

At first Ben seemed both surprised and shocked, but then his eyes narrowed and filled with that hardness that made Percival’s stomach ache.

“I’ve been there for you all day and this is the thanks I get?” Ben reached out and grabbed a hold of Graves’ chin this time. “You spoiled, little, rich boy!”

“I said,” Percival growled, “Don’t TOUCH me!” He didn’t settle for slapping the hand away this time, but planted a firm fist into Ben’s handsome face. 

-

The impact made Ben back up a step; clutching his face briefly, before glaring at him with pure anger. He launched himself at Graves and the two fell across what was supposed to be Ben’s bed.

Fists were flying and Percival got in a couple of good hits, but so did Ben. Ben had always been slightly better than him at hand to hand combat while Graves was unparalleled in spell-casting. He was very much aware of this, knowing he couldn’t win like this, so Percival managed to shove Ben away for a second and began a desperate crawl to get away.

He didn’t get far before Ben put a knee in his back and wrung his arm backwards, pinning him to the bed. “Get off me,” Percival raged, blinking away the blood that ran into his left eye from a cut above his eyebrow. “Let me go!”

Twisting his arm up behind his back, nearly breaking it and making Graves yelp with pain, Ben leaned down to pant by his ear. “I got you, buddy.” He shifted his weight, taking his knee off Graves’ back, and straddled his hips instead to settle comfortably, not releasing his arm. “Are all you rich boys this temperamental? Talk about being an ungrateful little shit!”

“Are you serious?” Percival felt like he was on the verge of hysteria. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why?” Ben snorted an amused laugh. “Because you asked me to!”

“I didn’t ask for any of this!” Graves tried to tug his arm free, but in vain. “I NEVER asked for any of this!”

“Sure you did,” Ben countered light-heartedly. “Why else would you ask me to come here with you?” 

“I thought you were my friend!”

“Right,” Ben drawled. “Do you kiss all your friends? You certainly didn’t mind me kissing you when we were supposed to be on guard duty!”

A little lost for words, Percival shook his head helplessly. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean… I thought…”

“I came here as your friend, because you asked me to, because you wanted me here, like you wanted to kiss me in that forest,” Ben sounded like he was accusing him, like Percival was the one who had done something wrong. “And you have been nothing but moody and ungrateful since we got here!”

A light tap at the side of Graves’ neck made him glance over and he saw Ben had pulled out his wand. Fear clawed its way into his guts.  
“Ben… Stop…” He tried to struggle, he really did, but Ben was heavy and every move Graves made sent bolts of agony up his arm. “Do you hear me? Stop it!”

He didn’t stop. Ben hit him with the paralyzing spell again and took away any chance he had of resisting. 

Graves couldn’t move, but he could feel the pain. Ben pulled at his clothes and put his hands where Percival had never been touched before, leading up to the moment where he pushed himself inside him. Then there was just too much pain to handle.  
Percival’s mind shut down again, blocking out everything but the feeling of Ben’s breath on his neck and the burning sensation in his scalp from Ben’s fingers pulling at his hair as he moved on top of him.

-

Once, when he was a little boy, Percival had joined his father on a hunt. His father had shot a beautiful deer and the young Percival had stared with horror at the wide-eyed look on the animal as it laid there; panting and dying.  
When Ben finally eased himself off him, Graves knew how that deer had felt.

He heard the other man fasten his pants again, taking a step away to a safer distance, then Ben lifted the spell and the tremors hit Graves hard. He was trembling so hard his teeth chattered. Still, Percival slowly gathered his arms underneath himself and began pushing himself up.  
Agony shot through him and he couldn’t hold back a tiny sound.

“See what happens when you act unreasonable and make me angry?” Ben sighed. “Hold still.”

Percival would rather perish than accept any help from him, but soon a healing spell curled around him and the worst pain eased away. He didn’t say anything, didn’t look at Ben, merely got himself up on his feet while pulling his pants up, and shuffled over to his own bed.  
He was still trembling so hard that he could barely walk.

“Are you going to sulk again?” Ben exclaimed. “This was your doing, you know!”

Graves carefully eased himself down on the bed, keeping his back towards Ben, and curled up on his side. It was so hard to breathe…

“I’m too sober for this kind of bullshit,” Ben muttered and soon the door slammed shut behind him.

Relief washed over Percival, but he still couldn’t stop trembling. His entire body was shaking from the shock of what had just happened.  
His thoughts were nothing but static.

Who knew how long it took before Ben came back, but the door did open and the familiar sound of his footsteps could be heard entering the room. He was humming to himself; he used to do that when he’d had more than his share of alcohol, and Graves heard him kicking off his boots.  
He didn’t dare to breathe before he heard the other man crawl into his own bed, for once, and when the snoring started; only then did Percival dare to close his eyes.

It became sleepless night. All he did was lie there and dread the moment when Ben would wake up.

After a couple of hours, the trembling eased down, but it was replaced with nausea and random jabs of panic.  
He tried to sit up once, tried to make himself get up and leave the room, but just the thought of having to walk by Ben, who could wake up, made him hyperventilate.

A part of him wanted to die, had died, but a voice in the back of his head whispered that if someone deserved to die; it was Ben.

-

Percival was not aware of falling asleep, but his eyes shot open when he heard Ben groan. Fear made him freeze, but he slowly recognized the sound of his so-called friend being hung-over. It made the ice cold tension ease a little, but not all the way.  
Lying there, Graves dreamed of getting into a big tub filled with warm water and scrub his skin off. 

“Morning, buddy,” Ben eventually said in a groggy voice. It sounded like he sat up in his bed. “Man, my head is killing me.”

How Graves wished that was true.  
The constant fear was now poisoned by a seething hatred and Percival found himself clutching his hands into tight fists to keep himself quiet. He just needed to keep it together until they had left this damn inn and he’d be free of Ben’s grasp.

“Hey,” Ben’s voice called out and it now sounded like he got up and walked towards him. “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” Graves finally answered, twitching under the memory of the pain. He sat up and placed his feet on the floor. Even if the injury had been healed, his body still struggled with the ghost of it.

“Good!” The bed dipped as Ben sat down behind him and soon Ben’s hand took a light hold of Percival’s neck. He gave it a gentle squeeze. “It sucks that we have to head back already.”  
Getting up, escaping the touch, Percival glanced back at him with thinly veiled disgust.  
Ben’s eyes narrowed. He got up from the bed and shrugged. “It’s just that I’ve enjoyed our time here together. It was… fun.”

Graves tried to hold on to his anger and disgust, but he was constantly distracted by jabs of fear and how he kept dreading for the wand to appear in Ben’s hand. 

“I mean,” Ben sighed, feigning innocence, “it’s just that… I’ve enjoyed having you alone. I almost wish I had not promised the others that they would get to try out the rich boy too, but a promise is a promise, I guess.”

Percival had been pretty certain nothing could shock him anymore, not after what Ben did to him last night, but he found himself dizzy with disbelief. “What?”

“Oh, you know; my crew back at the camp,” Ben said off-handedly.

While the difference in their family status had never bothered Graves, he also knew Ben had a group of friends from the poorer side of the wizarding world. He’d actually accused Ben of being ashamed of him, partially joking, as he would never introduce Graves to them.  
Now he knew why.

-

Turning to face him, hands clenched by his side, Percival fought to stay calm. “Touch me again and I will report you.”

Ben snorted a laugh. “And who would believe you?” He rolled his eyes dramatically and flung out his arms. “The great Percival Graves, the golden child, going off on a vacation with his barely spell-competent best buddy, then comes back and cries foul like some frantic dame? You’ll be the laughing stock of the entire garrison, sweet pea!”

Feeling the tremors starting up again and his throat threatening to close up entirely, Graves shook his head a little. This had to stop and it had to stop now. He couldn’t go back there and have this continue. He’d never survive it. And become a play thing for Ben’s friends too? No.

“Don’t be so difficult,” Ben made yet another effort to make him see ‘reason’. “I’ll look after you. I got you, remember?”

“No,” Percival said. At first his still sore throat could barely get the word out, but he repeated it at Ben’s quizzical squint. “No!”

And there it was; that hardness in Ben’s eyes that always came before the hurting did.  
Ben shook his arm a little and his wand slid out from his sleeve and into his hand. “You really shouldn’t make me angry, buddy. Shouldn’t you have learned that by now, being a prodigy and all?”

Reacting like a cornered animal, Percival felt a rage spawned by pure fear flare up in him. “Fuck you!”

He had no idea how he did it, he just did. When Ben used the wand and the bright light of the paralyzing spell shot towards Graves, Percival deflected it with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

They both looked a little surprised by what had just happened, but Graves was the first to recover. He could feel the magic under his skin, could sense its willingness, and he focused to channel it through his hand instead of a wand.

He felt almost dizzy with relief when a second flick of his wrist made Ben’s wand fly through the room to end up on the floor by the window. Percival then used his magic to push the man backwards until he slammed against the wall and was held there by an invisible grip.

Struggling to free himself, Ben still chortled. “Wandless magic, buddy? Seriously? Gold and a fancy name wasn’t enough?”

Percival walked over, now trembling with anger, and stared him straight in the eye. “Touch me again and I will kill you. Stay away from me, the same goes for your friends, or I will make it my life’s mission to destroy you all.”

He opened Ben’s jacket, plucked out his own wand, and left the room without looking back.

Percival headed straight for the train station and fled for the safety of the army camp. Once he got there, he would be able to relax again and mourn in peace. 

The nightmare was finally over, he thought, having no idea how wrong he was.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival tries to move on, but will Ben let him?

[](https://ibb.co/gsAeYv)

  
When he got back to camp, Percival gave the superior officer some bullshit tale about Ben being delayed by something and he’d follow on his own accord later. They bought the explanation, probably still wary about pressuring him after he’d lost his entire family, and Graves was allowed to take the day off to recover from his long journey.

Truth be told, he needed it. Graves had barely slept for a week now and even as he was free of Ben’s clutches, he still couldn’t make himself relax. He kept jumping at every sound, waiting for the feeling of a paralyzing spell, expecting Ben’s vengeance to explode into being at any moment. 

It took two days before Ben appeared back at camp and Percival nearly threw up at the mere sight of him. It cost him everything he had to appear unaffected when Ben walked by him with a smile.

Constantly on red alert, Graves managed to get through the days somehow. Ben didn’t approach him, thank Merlin, but he was around and that was bad enough. Was he just waiting for Percival to lower his defenses again? Had he decided to leave him alone, after all?

The uncertainty was driving him crazy! And his other friends quickly realized it was best to give him a wide berth or risk being snapped at.  
The officers also noted how troubled he was and ordered him to go get a check-up. Graves reluctantly obeyed, though he knew there was nothing the army doctors could do. He was nonetheless pleasantly surprised when one of the pretty nurses took an interest in him.

She was a pretty, blonde thing by the name of Sarah.

It was nice to be able to focus on something other than the horrible emptiness after losing his family, he still couldn’t believe it was true, as well as what had happened with Ben. 

Percival was sorry to head back to camp, but he received a message from her the very next day and he smiled for the first time since he got the message about the fire. He sent her a message back and they agreed on a first date.  
Ben was still around at the camp, hanging with his other friends, kept sending Graves meaningful looks and smirks, but Percival refused to acknowledge he even existed. 

Unfortunately he couldn’t control his dreams. He would wake up with a scream in his throat and covered in cold sweat; either trying to fend off hands he’d once felt on his body or crying from hearing his sister’s lament that they had never found the rest of her body.  
Despite this, he tried to move on with his life, as much as he could. Denial was a powerful thing.

On the third date, Percival was walking Sarah home after they had been to a movie. He was again pleasantly surprised by her when she tugged him closer in the doorway and leaned up to kiss him.

It was nice. It started off as gentle and slow, he heard her give a soft sigh and felt her lean even closer, so things escalated a little. Sarah eventually leaned back a little, placing a dainty hand on his chest with a satisfied smile. “Well, soldier… Ben _said_ you were good with your mouth, and you most certainly do not disappoint!”

Percival felt like he’d been hit by an ice spell and he jerked away from her. The shock made his heart race and nausea flooded him so hard it made him shudder. “What…?”

-

Stalking back to the army camp, a million thoughts were racing through his head. Percival couldn’t stop hearing her words. He wondered with a sick lurch to his stomach how many people Ben had told.  
Sarah seemed amused by his reaction and made no effort to stop him as he backed away from her. She even laughed a little when he spun around and fled.

Her words were still swimming around in his head hours later when Graves hunkered down by the table in the mess tent and stirred the indefinable glob which passed as food on his plate, all the time studying every face of the soldiers there. Which one of them were Ben’s allies? Percival had never really learned their names or their faces, deciding to respect Ben’s wish to keep them away from him until he wanted to introduce them.

“Hey there, buddy!” Ben’s voice made him freeze and the man slid down to sit next to him, bumping his shoulder against Graves’ in a friendly gesture. “I hear your date went well.”

Feeling his face burn from the humiliation while cold sweat broke out in his palms, Percival hunched his shoulders defensively. “Leave me alone, Ben.”

“Aww, come on! You can take a joke, can’t you? Even you rich boys got to have a sense of humor, right?” Ben grinned, showing off his handsome features and Percival was struck by the urge to stab him in the face with the spoon.

“I told you,” Percival grit out, “to leave me alone.”

Ben merely leaned closer, murmuring in his ear; “But I’ve missed you. No one here’s got a sweeter mouth than you or a tighter…”

Jumping to his feet, Percival backed away and kept his eyes on him as he did so. “Stay. Away. From me.” And he fled the tent.

Fear, anger, despair, it all spun inside his mind as Graves stalked away. He had no idea what to do, but he knew he couldn’t live like this. He’d go crazy…  
But what could he do?

Reporting Ben was not an option. Even if the officers believed him, he’d lose his dignity as well as his sanity. He couldn’t stand the thought of everyone knowing. Even if Ben had told his followers; it was worse to know the entire camp would know! And then everyone outside of camp would know! No, that was not an option.

He carried the Graves family name by himself now. He would not let it be tainted by this.

Then what? Attack Ben? Curse him to within an inch of his life? …Kill him?

Just the thought of facing Ben again, even to fight him, the mere idea of being near him, or touch him, it made bile rise in his throat. And if he did kill him, Ben’s friends would be the first ones to point the finger at him. (His family name might get him some leeway, but it would also be tainted by the accusations.)

Desperate, but without much hope, he put in a request for a transfer to a different regiment. Percival felt dizzy with relief when it was approved.

-

His new mistake was thinking he was safe, thinking that the danger had passed because the transfer had been approved, and Graves forgot to keep his guard up with his newfound hope.

It was the last night, the final evening in camp, he was leaving early next morning, when he headed back into the empty barrack to pack his things; suddenly, Percival was shoved face-first against one of the wooden pillars supporting the ceiling.  
He only had time to feel a jab of surprise and fear, then his right arm was twisted up behind his back and a too familiar voice spoke by his ear.

“You weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye, were you?” Ben pushed up against him as Graves automatically tried to back away from the pillar. “That would be bad manners, buddy!”

Breathing hard, Percival kept still as it felt like his twisted right arm would break at any moment. “There are people outside, Ben. They’re waiting for me.” His fellow soldiers who had insisted on a farewell drink.

“Then you better keep your voice down, don’t you think?” Ben replied, still as smug and confident as ever. He then let out a sigh of regret; his breath brushing by Graves’ neck. “Why did you have to ruin everything? You really hurt my feelings, buddy.”

Percival let out an incredulous snort. “You got to be kidding me?” He squirmed a little from the pain in his arm. “Let me go, you bastard. I’m warning you!”

Gathering magic under his skin, channeling it to his left hand, Graves was suddenly snapped out of his focus when he heard a mechanical click and felt something cold press against the skin just below his jaw; a loaded gun.  
“I stopped by Johnson and borrowed this,” Ben explained, as if they were talking about the weather. “He always had this weird fascination for the No-Majs’ weapons.” 

Under Ben’s hands, Percival had thought death would be the better option. Now, with a loaded gun to his neck, all Graves could feel was terror and how much he wanted to live!

“Please,” he whispered, knowing that all his previous pleas had been in vain, “Ben, don’t… Please, don’t…”

The weight on his back and against his arm increased as Ben leaned even closer, brushing his lips against his ear as he spoke. “You know, no one would be surprised if they found you dead in here…” He slid the muzzle of the gun up to press against Percival’s temple. “Everyone is talking about how odd you’ve been acting lately, how the loss of your family has changed you, that you’re not the same guy you once were.”

Graves closed his eyes tight, fighting to remember how to breathe and could only tremble.

Ben suddenly released his arm, only to reach up and take a hold of Percival’s hair. He pulled his head back to almost rest on Ben’s shoulder so he could look at his face. “Just because you’re rich and have a famous family name, you can’t just treat people like crap, buddy. You’re not better than the rest of us, you know? Your so-called friends waiting for you outside, they’re just sucking up to you because of your name. You honestly think anyone likes a conceited rich boy like you?”

“I’m sorry, Ben,” Percival whispered in a shaky voice. “I’m sorry, okay? Please, just, don’t…”

Did he believe Ben was capable of pulling the trigger? Oh yes, most definitely. 

Time seemed to slow down and the moment lasted for a small eternity, when suddenly they heard voices approaching.

Ben leaned closer, pressed the gun harder against his temple and let out a soft, little laugh. “You really think getting a transfer is going to change anything? It won’t. I have friends and I will find you. You realize that, right?” He nuzzled Graves’ neck with a hungry sound. “I’ll be seeing you again, buddy. That’s a promise.”

There was a flicker of magic as Ben disapparated away and the other soldiers entered the barrack to find Percival Graves leaning against a wooden pillar, pale and trembling so bad that his legs could barely hold him up.

-

At first, leaving almost made it worse. At the old camp, Percival knew where Ben used to hang out, which areas to avoid and when the officers kept his tormentor busy with something. Here, at the new camp, Graves had no idea what to expect.

Was Ben really serious that he’d have people watching him? It sounded ludicrous, but then he remembered Sarah and Ben’s natural talent of making friends. It might not be as absurd as it sounded.  
If the man was insane enough to do what he’d already done to Graves, then surely Ben would have no trouble going further. He could still feel the ghost of the gun pressed against his skin.

This made him extremely suspicious of anyone trying to be friendly with him. Why were they talking to him? Why were they being all nice? Were they friends of Ben? Did they hope to take some advantage of the Graves name? Did they hide some horrible second personality too?

Percival found it easier to keep them all at a distance. Was he lonely? Sure, but he was even more exhausted by constantly questioning people’s motives and being on red alert every single day. 

Six months would pass before he saw Ben again. 

It was almost accidental. Percival was heading towards the officers tent with a report when he spotted the arrival of some soldiers for a training exercise. Even at a long distance, he recognized the one person he really did not want to meet.  
Instinct reacted before pride and Graves ducked behind a tent before Ben could see him.

Heart thundering in his chest, he peered out to check if he had been discovered, but was relieved to see that Ben seemed busy chatting with his fellow soldiers without even looking in his direction. Still, just the sight of him made panic lick at the edge of Graves’ consciousness.

He didn’t sleep that first night. He even kept himself so isolated from other people that Percival didn’t know that Ben and the other ones from his old company had gone until two days _after_ they’d left.  
And STILL Graves couldn’t relax.

Had Ben heard he was there? Was that why he’d come here? Was he still looking for him? Would he come back?

Percival had gotten pretty good at pretending the past had never happened, but with seeing Ben that day; it brought it all back.

His twentieth birthday was spent in silence, alone with the mere memory of his family.

Two days later, a letter arrived from Ben. It said; “Happy birthday, buddy! You’re always on my mind. Will be seeing you again soon, your pal Ben.”  
He burned the letter.

-

Three months later, he saw Ben at a military parade. He was talking to a couple of soldiers from Percival’s camp and Graves spent weeks driving himself up the walls over whether it was just a talk or if they were actual friends of his.

It took a very long time before he even considered doing anything sociable with another person. Even longer before he allowed them to touch him. A nice brunette eventually managed to lure him into a gentle, but brief, kiss. Percival felt nothing.

He tried a couple of more times with other women, even pushed himself into it when he felt like running away, but while he could make his lips kiss and his hands touch; inside, he felt nothing.

Graves actually allowed a nervous fellow soldier, with blond hair and big brown eyes, kiss him and even with another man; he felt nothing.

When the one year anniversary for his family’s death came, he mourned alone and in silence.  
He still dreamt about them. 

He continued to keep to himself and he waited for Ben’s revenge, one that never came. Eventually, he began to relax a little. It was finally over.

Still, it wasn’t until his family had been buried for two whole years that he could make himself go back home.

The house had not been rebuilt, but most of the burned down timber had been cleared away. Percival was relieved to see that their final resting places were tended to. He made a mental note to reward the family lawyer for that.  
Graves had been invited to stay with the friends of the family during his visit. (He could never go back to that inn. Never.) And he was greeted like the prodigal son of their own family upon his arrival. It felt good to be among other people than soldiers for once.

“Welcome!” David Fountaine, the father of the house, pulled him into the mansion and slapped his back. “It’s been too long, Percival! We need to see your face around here more often!” He lowered his voice a little. “Your father would have wanted you to look after things here, you know.”

Nodding, Graves managed a faint smile. Two years and he still missed his father so damn much…

“Percival!” Daffodehlia Fountaine gushed, rushing over to him in a flurry of skirts and perfume, smothering him with hugs and kisses. “My dear boy! It’s been too long!” She held him at an arm length distance, studying him. “You are far too skinny, Percival! And so pale! We need to fatten you up!”

“You chose the perfect time!” David picked up where his wife left off. “We are celebrating the engagement of our daughter!”

“And we got you to thank for it,” Daffodehlia chirped with delight.

“Me?” Percival blinked confused. “What did I…?” He fell silent as he saw Syrin Fountaine enter, looking as dainty and pretty as ever, on the arm of her fiancé; Benjamin Roberts.  
All color drained from Graves’ face and he felt like his feet had been nailed to the floor.


	5. Chapter 5

[](https://ibb.co/dRQfQk)   


“Long time, no see!” Ben exclaimed with a wide grin, coming over and engulfing Graves in an enthusiastic hug.

Flinching at the contact, Percival remained frozen in place and felt the other man squeeze him tight before releasing him and taking a step back to ask; “How have you been, buddy?”

Shock numbed his brain and it took him a long moment to realize he had not replied and everyone was looking at him with a mixture of concern and confusion. Auto-pilot kicked in and allowed Percival to force out a whisper of; “I, uh, I’ve been okay…”

“Come, come!” David insisted, taking a hold of Graves’ luggage before he could make up some excuse for leaving. “I will show you to your room!”

The thought of spending a night under the same roof as Ben made panic lick across his skin and Percival kept glancing from Ben to David, trying to find some way out of the situation.  
Ben’s smile remained broad and welcoming, just as he remembered him from those first months.

“This way!” David called out, halting in the doorway leading further into the mansion.

Opening his mouth and closing it a couple of times, Percival didn’t move. His brain was stuck on how Ben had been so close that he could smell the soap he had used and how his stubbles had prickled against his neck. By now, everyone was back to staring at him with concern. Even Ben.

Hoping to avoid questions, Percival told himself that Ben would never dare to try anything under the roof of his friends and his future family in law and so he followed David into the house.

As he walked, Graves also felt a flicker of spite. Why should he flee from the house of the people he’d grown up with? This was HIS hometown! He belonged here, not Ben! He’d lost enough because of that damn man! And it was just for one night…

David lead him to one of the bedrooms he’d spent a night in as a child and he instructed Graves to make himself comfortable and that dinner would be within the hour.

It took no small amount of courage to act like nothing was wrong. Basically hiding in his room until he had to go down for dinner, Percival jumped at every sound. He felt anything but hungry, but it would be expected of him to make an appearance.  
Why was Ben here? Had he known Percival would be arriving? Or had he finally moved on?

Entering the dining room, Graves was so nervous he felt like throwing up and the sight of Ben and his giggling bride-to-be didn’t help. Still, he managed a faint smile and found his seat by the table; luckily at a safe distance from his former friend. It allowed him to hold conversations with the other people, more friends of the family had joined them as well, and it was almost possible to ignore Ben’s presence all together. 

Almost…

-

He honestly didn’t think he’d get any sleep, but by the time Percival was allowed to retire to his room; he was exhausted and he had barely settled on the bed, on his stomach and with his hand on his wand under his pillow, before he was asleep.

A jumble of odd dreams followed, making him uneasy, but it was a flash of light that woke him up.  
When Graves realized he couldn’t move; he panicked.

“I told you I would be seeing you again, didn’t I?” Ben drawled from the shadows. He walked over to stand in front of him, smiling even wider at the fear he could plainly see there. “Now, now, keep it down, buddy. I can just about hear your heart pounding from here.”

No matter how hard he tried, Percival couldn’t make himself move or reach for his wand that was mere inches away from his fingers. Oh, Merlin, why hadn’t he merely left when he saw him there?!

“They are right though; you are too skinny.” Ben sat down and pulled the covers down to Graves’ waist. He pushed the nightshirt up and trailed his hand up along the spine. “You haven’t been eating enough. See what happens when you don’t have me to look after you?”

The feeling of that warm, gentle hand on his skin made Graves want to throw up. He kept straining against the magic, thinking; - Not again. I can’t survive going through this again!

When Ben withdrew his hand to relocate it to his hair, pulling harshly at it to lift Percival’s head and smile at his face; there was that hardness in those blue eyes again. “I really did miss you, buddy!”

Graves was released to slump against the pillow, but he was horrified to feel the hands moving to his body again and the night clothing offered little resistance. He could barely breathe when he felt cold air on his skin and Ben climb into the bed.

Stroking a thumb by Percival’s hip, Ben made an appreciative sound. “Last time was all too quick. You shouldn’t have provoked me like that.” He leaned forward to whisper against Percival’s neck; “This time we got all night…”

Graves could only lie there and feel how Ben’s hands roamed and claimed what they could reach of him. It felt like poison. A part of his brain whispered it was his own damn fault for staying…

The horror was complete when he felt Ben tugging at his hips, nudging his legs apart with his knees and then there was only pain.  
Pain where Ben was tearing him, pain where Ben was pulling at his hair, pain where Ben’s fingers were digging into his skin and pain inside his soul as yet another part of it was destroyed. 

“Damn, you’re so good at this!” Ben groaned against Graves’ shoulder, moving hard and fast. “So unbelievably good at it!”

It seemed to go on forever, but the pain didn’t diminish. It remained a horrible agony until he felt Ben come to an abrupt halt and give a trembling moan. After that, it dwindled down to the occasional jab of pain, when Ben withdrew, and a mulling discomfort.

Panting against Percival’s back, Ben lingered there for a good while, then he moved up to whisper in his ear; “And that was just round one, buddy.”

-

Hours later, Graves was in constant pain. His skin was running with sweat, the air was heavy with the smell of blood and his heart was jumping irregularly in his chest, but Ben wouldn’t stop touching, biting, pinching and anything else he could think of to amuse himself.

Percival’s mind was starting to blur things out, overloaded with fear and pain, and Ben was more than a little annoyed when he noticed.

“Stay with me, buddy,” Ben drawled, pulling at Graves’ hair. “Come on, stay with me!”  
He fumbled with something around Percival’s neck and the relief when he released his hair was brief as Graves suddenly couldn’t breathe.

Ben had slipped a cloth around Graves’ neck and was cutting off his air with a firm grip for what seemed like an eternity. When he finally loosened his grip, Ben chuckled slightly at the desperate gulps of oxygen. “That’s it, buddy. Keep your focus on me, now. Don’t be rude.”

Graves went from fearing pain and humiliation to fearing for his life.

At one point, as the cloth was tightened again and for too long, making Percival black out. When he woke up, the sun was rising and he was alone in the room.

He was an aching, bloody and bruised mess. Ben had left him to either heal himself or explain to the Fountaines what had happened and be even more humiliated. 

Defying the raw agony shooting through his entire body, Percival somehow got up on his feet and slowly, very slowly, limped his way over to the mirror. He held his breath as he moved, if he didn’t; he would be screaming in pain, but Percival had to see!

His reflection showed that he looked precisely how he felt. A complete ruin. A shadow of himself.

The wide, dark bruise across his throat also told him how close Ben had come to killing him.

Percival Graves’ dark eyes hardened and he clenched his jaw with determination. He would never allow himself to end up in this situation again. He would never be this helpless again! NEVER!

His hand shot out before he knew what he was doing and his fist impacted with his reflection, shattering the mirror.

Breathing hard, Graves kept staring at his broken image in the remaining shards and he absently channeled magic into his hands to heal himself.  
Never again.

-

The Fountaines were surprised to find that Percival Graves had left early that morning, leaving no explanation, merely a shattered mirror. They never heard from him again. 

Graves quit the army and headed for New York. He had been approached with an offer to become an Auror a month earlier and he decided to accept it. It meant leaving his childhood home and his few remaining friends behind, but he didn’t care anymore and it would get him out of Ben’s reach. 

Percival considered warning the Fountaines, but Syrin had a very protective father and even Ben would be out of his depth if he messed with them. She had her family to protect her. It wasn’t his problem. The world was a cruel place and he’d learned his lesson.

Arriving in New York, the life of an Auror suited him perfectly. There were rules and regulations to follow, much like in the army, but he could work alone. Graves was at the mercy of no one.

It didn’t come as a surprise to him that he was good at his work. His family had been among the original Aurors, after all. Also, while the others still insisted on being sociable and having a life, Graves turned his job into his life. He poured all his hours and intense focus into the job.

He quickly realized his good looks and his charms were assets to be used and he wasn’t afraid to do so. He forced himself into a couple of one-night stands, proving to himself that he still could and that no one could tell how ruined he really was. He managed to act, but he didn’t feel anything. That was fine with him. He would use sex when it suited him, but he didn’t have the hunger for it any longer.

His job showed him more of the ugliness of the world and Percival made quite a name for himself among the Aurors. He knew the powers higher up was also starting to pay attention to him. Good.

The nightmares slowly began to abate as time moved on, but they never went completely away; lingering in the shadows of his mind and waiting to attack.  
Years later, years of recreating and hardening himself, the war broke out.

He was reluctant to interfere, but with the increased reports of magic on the battlefield; Graves couldn’t ignore it any longer and decided to volunteer, even before the US officially joined the fray. 

And, there, in the muddy trenches in France, he met Theseus Scamander.

War was nowhere near the glamorous thing the newspapers tried to make it out to be. It was wet, muddy, disease-ridden and had dragonfire, bombshells, bullets and gas constantly flying over your head. Your friends died around you. There was the pungent smell of decay from the ones lost where no soldier could go to reclaim their bodies without the danger of joining them in the after-life.

Amidst all this, one day, Percival turned around and found himself facing a far too cheerful British soldier with bright green eyes and curling ginger hair. 

For some reason, despite Graves’ attempts to remain distant, Scamander decided to ignore the signals and attached himself to him. His bubbly personality collided fiercely against Percival’s, but the Brit merely weathered the sour comments with never-ending patience and good humor.

Scamander also proved himself to be a good soldier. An excellent shot, actually. Better than Graves and everyone else in their area. Percival wanted to hate the guy, but couldn’t, for some reason. A sniper as deadly as Scamander who didn’t brag about his skills but considered them an unfortunate talent he used to protect his allies; you had to respect that.

Still, Graves was more than a little wary. It didn’t make sense to him!

Why was Scamander so nice to him? Why was he set on being Graves’ friend when Percival had made it perfectly clear that he was not there to make friends?  
What did Thesesus Scamander want?  
Whatever it was, he was not going to get it from Graves.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graves' past catches up with him and the war comes to an end...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! The dark fic is over!  
> I want to give special thanks to Gentrychild, Melamory and LtSaraDHarkness for their support! And thanks to every single one who commented and left kudos! You have my awe for getting through this very dark story! <3

[ ](https://ibb.co/m7nNMQ)

Weeks passed and finally Graves had to, reluctantly, admit that they did work well together. There had been an obvious interest from Scamander’s side with lingering looks and some careful hints, but once Percival had firmly rebuffed any idea of it, the Englishman left it at that.

He kept waiting for Scamander to turn mean because of the rejection, but he never did… Not even when Percival demonstratively had a one-night thing with another soldier, followed by a nurse.

Ironically, as much as Scamander’s cheerfulness annoyed him, Graves discovered it also helped when the days in the trenches got too depressing. (The fact that Theseus Scamander was quite handsome didn’t hurt either, along with how the man was perfectly capable of being serious when the situation demanded it.)

The first time Graves actually smiled at one of Scamander’s awful jokes, the Englishman acted like it was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen. (Percival was grateful it was dark and Scamander couldn’t see the light flush he felt crawling up his neck like some damn teenager.)

He decided to allow Theseus to hang around him and stopped telling him to go away.

They struggled through an entire year together in the trenches, fighting against magic, dodging bullets and dragonfire, surviving the horror of gas-attacks and collapsing tunnels. It seemed like a never-ending mix of mud and death. 

One day, mid-summer, the horrible past suddenly caught up with Percival Graves on the battlefield.

A rush towards the German trenches ended badly, as they often did, and Graves had to scramble for cover as shells exploded all around them. He didn’t realize he’d been separated from the other soldiers until he rolled into a trench and found himself all alone.

No, not alone.

The trench was filled with bodies of fallen soldiers. It was hard to make out which army they belonged to as mud and smoke covered them.

Bodies were nothing new to him, but Graves shuddered. He turned around with an aim to carefully poke his head up and scout for the others. Suddenly, he found himself face to face with a uniformed Benjamin Roberts.

Raw fear slammed into him and instinct made Percival scramble backwards, panic flooding his mind and drowning his reason. How had he found him here? Percival’s hands couldn’t decide whether they wanted to flail in a defensive gesture or reach for his gun.

He slipped on the mud and fell on his behind but kept frantically scrambling backwards. He was barely making any progress, when he realized something; Ben hadn’t moved.

In fact, Ben hadn’t reacted to his presence at all.

Panting, Percival remained seated on the ground and stared wide-eyed at him. He waited, waited some more, but when there was still no reaction; Graves slowly got up. He hesitated, then inched closer and saw how Ben’s once blue eyes were now blurry and blood was covering his neck and most of his uniform.

Benjamin Roberts was dead.

Percival Graves dropped to his hands and knees and threw up.

-

Graves made it back to the friendly trenches, to where he and Scamander had created a little safe haven with some planks for a ceiling and a rickety chair for a table.  
He sat down just outside of the shelter, his back towards it, and hid his face in his hands.

His stomach would not stop rolling and he would get fits of uncontrollable tremors. He didn’t even notice the wet mud soaking through his clothes or the explosions around him anymore.

When Scamander got back as well, he was relieved to find his friend alive, but Percival didn’t want to talk or even look at him. He just wanted to be left alone with his memories and turmoil. He didn’t even know if he was just happy Ben was dead or furious that he didn’t get to kill him.

Graves wasn’t the most warm and including of wizards on a regular day, but it still didn’t take Scamander long to pick up on that something was really wrong. All efforts at communicating were met with stone silence. Graves tried to hide his trembling and strained breathing, and waited for the Englishman to take a hint and go away.

Instead of giving up, he was surprised to feel Scamander gently place his sniping coat over his shoulders and sit down next to him; placing a careful arm around him.

Tensing up, Percival waited for the questions, for the contact to cross the line into groping or whatever Scamander was planning. He waited, but nothing happened. Scamander was just a solid and warm presence next to him, offering support.

Ben was dead. Ben was finally dead. He would never touch Percival again, so why wasn’t he happy? Why was he flooded by painful memories, of shame and old fear, instead of joy? Why couldn’t he stop remembering the feeling of Ben’s fingers pulling at his hair? After all these years, why was he still miserable?? Why couldn’t he forget…? Merlin, he just wanted to forget!

In the end, utterly exhausted, Graves surrendered. He shivered once, then turned to rest his head on Theseus’ shoulder and closed his eyes.

They sat like that, unmoving, for several hours, unaware of the fat rats scampering by them on their way to their next meal. 

By the time the trench had been reclaimed by British troops, the rats left so little behind of Benjamin Roberts that all they found was his helmet, parts of his uniform and his skeleton.

After that, Percival started resenting himself for how he still couldn’t lower his defenses around Theseus Scamander. The Brit had done nothing but good, shown him nothing but kindness, yet Graves couldn’t forget how quickly a person could turn or what people were capable of, his work confirmed that. Still…

He tried to make it up by being a little more friendlier, by taking on some of Scamander’s chores, as if that could weigh up for his suspicious nature. He felt bad, but he couldn’t undo what he’d become.

Theseus seemed delighted that Graves was finally thawing a bit, but he didn’t push it. He never had and probably never would, so why couldn’t Percival stop waiting for the other shoe to drop? 

When Theseus woke him in the middle of yet another nightmare, one where Ben came crawling through the mud, covered in blood and gore and calling out for him, Percival grabbed a hold of his jacket. He pulled Scamander close to hide his face against Theseus’ chest, whispering; “I’m sorry. I can’t…”

Theseus didn’t ask, didn’t demand any explanation, merely wrapped his arms around him and held him close until he stopped shivering, and a good long while after. It felt nice.

-

Shortly after that, came the day when Theseus Scamander started shivering.

There had been a dangerous outbreak of influenza in the trenches and a lot of soldiers had already perished under the poor conditions.  
Seeing Theseus pale, sweaty and in pain; Percival nearly panicked. There was no doubt that Scamander had caught the bug and the idea of losing the one person who mattered to him in this damn world… He could not allow that to happen.

At first Scamander tried to play it cool. He kept reassuring Percival that he would be fine, told him he’d shaken worse things than this, but he just kept getting sicker and finally the fever got so bad he stopped pretending and lapsed into a semi-delusional state of agony.

Graves’ visit to the field doctor didn’t improve things. Both the doctor and the aid tent were swamped with sick wizards. For some reason, it seemed like the influenza, while it could be deadly for the No-Majs to, was even harder on the wizarding community. Rows of sick and dead patients filled the tent and there was no way he would bring Theseus there. 

He managed to harass his way to a magic potion which would give Theseus extra strength to fight the bug. Graves brought it back to their shelter, where his friend was barely conscious on his muddy blanket.  
Percival sat down and maneuvered Theseus up to sit and lean his back against Graves’ chest. He lured some of the potion into his mouth. As Theseus shivered and coughed, Graves pulled a blanket over them both and mumbled, partially to Scamander and partially to himself; “Hang in there. Just, hang in there, okay?”

The days that followed were rough, but he refused to give up. Percival continued to force water and the magic potion into Theseus and tried to keep him warm and dry. 

There were times when the Englishman would mumble in his feverish delirium, calling out for his brother and arguing with people Graves had never heard about, but as long as he was talking; he was alive.  
People were dying around them, by bullets, magic or disease, but Theseus was still alive and he intended to keep him that way! Graves would not accept anything else.

Percival Graves would deny, even with his final breath, the relief he felt when Theseus opened his eyes and looked at him. Really looked at him. “Hey, Percy,” he managed a weak smile. “You look like shit.”

Breathing a laugh, Percival shook his head a little. “I should have let you die, you ungrateful tea-drinker.” Theseus had never looked better to him. 

Theseus groaned softly at a shiver of pain and he burrowed closer to him, sighing satisfied when Percival’s arms went around him in a comforting embrace. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Graves whispered. He ran his fingers through the sweaty, ginger hair, and watched as Theseus drifted off to sleep again. “Me too.” It made no sense, but he was suddenly on the verge of tears and had to blink them away.  
He hugged him a little tighter. Theseus would live.

The Englishman did recover in the following days, others didn’t, but at least Percival had him by his side as they buried their other friends and fellow soldiers; including the remains of Benjamin Roberts.

They supported each other; Theseus made Graves smile and Graves… had no idea what he did for his friend, but it seemed to work as the man never tired of him.

-

It was four long years filled with horrors, but the war did come to an end.

At first, they struggled to believe it. How could it be true? It felt like they had been in those trenches all their lives! But the fighting stopped and slowly people began to return to their homes.  
On the last night before Percival would set course back to New York, he and Theseus sat on top of one of the few hills in the area and gazed out on No Man’s Land and the destruction left there.

“So, heading back tomorrow, huh?” Theseus asked, bumping his shoulder against Graves’.

Graves nodded. “Yeah. Finally back to civilization; clean clothes and no more damn mud!”

“Proper tea,” Theseus moaned with a longing which should be saved for lewder activities.

Snorting a laugh, Percival shook his head. He glanced briefly over at his friend and found him looking at the stars instead of the battlefield. Typical Theseus. Looking for beauty in the middle of hell. He cleared his throat and shifted his focus back to the barbed wire and craters on the field. “What are you going to do?”

“I figure I should pop in on Newt first, check that he is alright, that man has a habit of finding himself in trouble and having no idea how he got there.” Theseus grinned. “He’d drive you insane.”

“You drive me insane,” Graves declared with a huff, “I can’t imagine how ditzy he must be then.”

There was a moment where Theseus hesitated before blurting it out. “So, uh, there’s no way I could persuade you to tag along, huh?”

Blinking surprised, Percival looked over at him. “What?”

The Englishman gave a trying smile, something soft and gentle, and shrugged. “I mean, why not? You could meet Newt. A-and you could come with us to England. Proper tea, how could you resist?”

Seeing how awkward the usually so blustering Theseus was, it made something ache inside Percival’s chest and he nearly drowned in a wave of mixed emotions; longing, affection, regret and fear. By Merlin, he wanted to! But… Theseus deserved better. He deserved someone not broken, who could still feel and who wouldn’t wait for him to do something wrong at every turn… Percival was good at his job, not other people. He couldn’t do that to him. He l… liked him too much.

Graves drew a shivering breath, steeling himself, but he still couldn’t help but to reach out and tug lightly at a runaway lock of Theseus’ hair. “I wish I could…” 

“But you can!” Theseus turned to properly face him. “If you want to, you can. We would be _good_ together, Percy.” There was so much emotion in his voice, withheld for four long years.

His heart was breaking, but Graves still flinched away when Theseus took his face between his hands. Seeing that reaction, the Brit lowered his hands and Percival could see his own pain reflected in his eyes. He realized he had to get away before he changed his mind.

“I’m sorry,” Percival mumbled, his voice thick with self-loathing.  
Theseus didn’t try to stop him as he got up on his feet and fled. Graves could feel him watching as he left, but that drowned in the suspicion that he was making a horrible mistake.

-

Percival went back to New York. He went back to his work and continued to live and breathe for the upholding of the wizarding laws and he locked on to the arts of fine tailoring. 

The nightmares about Ben or his burning family were now occasionally sprinkled with images from the war. The dead and the dying reached for him, claimed him as one of their own, and sometimes he would see Theseus among them.

Theseus wrote him letters. It was a poor substitute for the real man, but it was better than nothing. It was something to brighten his grey days. He meticulously saved every single letter and always wrote back, taking care to make it sound like he was doing okay.

Percival once dreamed that he’d made a different choice; that he had gone to England with Theseus, and when he woke up and realized it was only a dream, it upset him even more than the nightmares did.

It was too late now anyways. He’d made his choice and had to suffer it. Alone.

Percival ducked even deeper into his work and didn’t notice how the years went by or how he began to regard everyone with mild disdain, no matter who they were. They were idiots anyway. He found himself a routine to stick to and it rewarded him with promotion after promotion. 

Graves wondered how proud his family would have been when he was promoted to where he only had to answer to the President. He didn’t feel anything. He kept doing his job. He was good at it.

He probably would have continued down that line until his death, if, one day, he hadn’t been visited by Gellert Grindelwald.

First in disguise, as an old man, pointing out the flaws of the system already painfully apparent to Graves. Later, as himself, in Percival’s apartment.  
He’d been ready to duel, to bring him in, but, oh, the man could talk. 

Percival had been wooed by both women and men in the past, but nothing like this! Instead of his body or his good looks in general, Gellert was aiming straight for his brain. He _hungered_ for Percival’s skills and intelligence.  
Surrounded by mediocrity; Grindelwald needed Percival Graves. They had to protect the wizardkind from obsolete laws, right all the wrongs he saw on a daily basis and free them from the shadows. They needed someone to protect them from abuse and they deserved their rightful place in the world!

It was like waking up after sleepwalking for years. A dormant anger inside him came to life and finally he had some place to direct it.

Graves went from numb to angry. 

Yet, on his first mission from Grindelwald, he met Credence Barebone; the terrified young man with a power beyond belief, who would still stare at Graves like he was the origin of magic itself! And eventually Percival felt… something else.

[](https://ibb.co/d5Tkak)   


Tbc in http://archiveofourown.org/works/8793700/chapters/20160217


End file.
